My friend has cut me off because I voted for Brexit
DEAR BEL,
A WIDOW in my late 60s, I decided to move to rural Somerset — a small village, fairly isolated, with a shop and no pub. I’m self-sufficient, don’t mind solitude and have my dog.
But as an educated woman I do crave interesting conversation and cultural/literary pursuits.
This was lacking in my community. There are many good, kind and decent people with whom I regularly chat when in the shop or out walking the dog, but they are not necessarily interested in things that matter to me.
Imagine how delighted I was, after a couple of years, to discover another woman of about the same age with exactly the same background — keen on local history, art, archaeology, the sea, nature.
We became friends over dog walks and it grew into regular outings, visits to the cinema, lunches, exploring interesting places nearby, sharing books and DVDs — and lots of good conversation. Then Brexit happened. In all good conscience I voted Leave. I hadn’t seen my friend for a while, but when we met with our dogs, the referendum came up. I said I was pro-Brexit. She gave me a filthy look and turned on her heel, saying: ‘I’m sorry I have to go, as I won’t be able to have a civilised conversation with you.’ And that was the end of our friendship. She cut me dead. I’ve hardly seen her since and if I do I only get a cursory acknowledgement.
For a long time I was deeply hurt and upset — but I’ve moved on now. Still, I do regret the loss of friendship with someone local whose company I so much enjoyed.
My experience may well be symptomatic of a pattern developing all over the country since 2016.
Families and friends have fallen out. Yet I have other friends who voted Remain but who still retain contact, mature enough to agree to differ rather than destroy our friendship.
When it comes to meeting we avoid the subject, so there’s no reason to quarrel. But as I get older, living here, I still regret the loss of that valued friend.
I’m wondering how many other people have had similar experiences and, like me, regret how Brexit can destroy relationships in this bitter, heartbreaking way. PATRICIA
Your letter couldn’t be more timely, as we enter a new year with all its unknowns.
Honestly, picturing the moment when that woman turned on her heel and insulted the person with whom she had shared so much, I did not know whether to sob or to seethe.
I doubt she’s worth my tears or yours, so I took refuge in the anger that seems to have become the country’s default setting — if you believe social media and online comment.
To negate (in one shocking instant) all you two had shared and what you might have discussed in years to come — the glories of history, geography, literature, art, music, nature, psychoanalysis, religion, myth, television, child- rearing, canine loyalty, cookery, language, gardening — to consign all those topics to the dustbin of ego and political prejudice because of one
difference of opinion . . . well, that is truly appalling.
I have every sympathy for you and none whatsoever for her — the uncivilised, intolerant bigot who is as convinced she has right on her side as those who consigned Protestants to the flames or watched the tumbrils trundle innocent people to the guillotine.
Yet, as you say, there is a lot of this about. In our home we have banned ‘the B-word’ at the dinner table, because my son and daughter disagree with me, and we love each other dearly, so it’s best to steer clear.
Like you I voted Leave, yet entirely understand why people voted for the status quo, ie, remain. Detesting fanaticism in any form, I see both sides to most issues — or try to.
Sometimes it’s not easy, but all the
more reason for trying harder. And I shall go on embracing nuance in the face of horrible certainties — proudly pragmatic (I hope) until my last breath.
Yet, many opinion-formers chuck fuel on pyres of hostility. An article by Max Hastings (whom I greatly admire) was headlined: ‘Wounds of Brexit civil war may never heal.’ Oh, pernicious pessimism!
Admirably honest, Max wrote that he and his wife ‘ talk about the possibilities of meeting friends of differing views and merely discussing Trollope, or our children.
‘ Yet although not ourselves politicians, we are political animals … now that we face the most important national decision since 1945 … it is almost impossible to pass an evening in company without addressing it.’
Well, these days I find it easy to skip the subject — though intensely interested in politics and people — because the life I love is varied and rich.
But your letter makes me wonder if there are those who have admired everything I’ve written and achieved — but would now consider me a non-person because of my vote. And that makes me very sad indeed.
What can we do, Patricia? nothing. except reflect that, taking the long view of history, these divisions will pass.
The only consolation I can offer is that your friend proved herself unworthy of you.
There is no choice but to accept that truth — in the knowledge that on all our deathbeds none of us will care who voted what in 2016, only that our lives were welllived and we were capable of love.